


Nightmare Pact

by NightSkyWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Does this count as fluff? I have no idea, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Issues, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester Needs a Break, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Sam winchester watched his brother die too many times of course he has ptsd, Season/Series 04, Second Chapter Tags >
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightSkyWriter/pseuds/NightSkyWriter
Summary: When Dean has a nightmare, only Sam can fix it. When Sam has a nightmare, only Dean can fix it.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [authoressnebula (authoressjean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Pact Reforged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306454) by [authoressnebula (authoressjean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula). 



Dean jerked awake, the knife from under his pillow suddenly in hand. He bit his tongue to stop himself from calling Sam. His shirt was damp from sweat and he couldn’t stop his chest heaving.  
  
It was just another dream. Sam wasn’t in hell with Dean. If Dean had his way about it, Sam never would be. Sam would never learn what it was like.  
  
Dean did a quick scan of the room. There weren’t any whisps of black smoke or dark eyes waiting to get to him or Sam. The room, aside from his brother, was empty.  
  
He stuffed the knife back under his pillow.  
  
It’d been two weeks since he’d dug himself out of his own grave only to find himself in a field of mowed down trees. It’d been two weeks and he still woke up every night, after dreaming that he was either in that coffin again with six feet of dirt above him or still in hell and that he’d never really escaped. Those dreams he could deal with though. He’d almost grown used to them.  
  
Maybe that was why his head had decided to throw this new thing at him.  
  
Dreaming of hell and coffins were fine, expected even. But this time, Sam had been in hell too.  
  
In reality, he knew he was in a motel in Tampa Bay, and if he opened the door the humidity would remind him, but his lungs didn’t know that right now. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest and, if it was anyone but himself, he would have said he was on the verge of hyperventilating.  
  
He wanted to fight something. They’d just finished a werewolf hunt a few hours ago, but it wasn’t enough.  
  
Every fiber of his being was convinced he had to save Sam from something that he knew wasn’t real.  
  
He put all of his focus into just trying to get his lungs to cooperate. Sammy was safe and Dean wasn’t in the coffin, he wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t in hell.  
  
So why did it feel like he was?  
  
He could still hear the other souls who had also been idiot enough to get themselves trapped in hell. He could feel the heat and hear Sam—  
  
“Dean?”  
  
Dean hadn’t noticed his brother sitting up.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Dean managed to say, running a hand across his face. “Everything’s fine.”  
  
Dean waited for the creak of the bed springs to tell him Sam had listened to him.  
  
He glanced at his jacket and considered just going outside and walking it off. Maybe he could distract himself enough to forget about it. But if he did that, it would involve leaving Sam. After the images his mind had conjured up, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  
  
Sam’s bed creaked, but instead of Sam going back to bed, he was getting up and walking over to Dean.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Dean asked. His voice wasn’t croaky. It wasn’t.  
  
“Move over.”  
  
“What—”  
  
“Nightmare Pact goes both ways, asshole. Scoot.”  
  
Since he didn’t have a better idea of what to do, Dean did as Sam asked.  
  
Ever since they’d made the agreement, Sam hadn’t ever reversed it on Dean. The thought of that being an option hadn’t ever occurred to Dean.  
  
Sam stole most of the covers but Dean didn’t really care.  
  
“Goodnight Jerk.”  
  
Dean looked down at his brother. Already, Sam was almost asleep again. The fact that Dean was able to breath again and his heart rate had slowed wasn’t something Dean was ever going to mention. Dean laid down again, his back to Sam.  
  
“’Night Bitch.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had found that the worst dreams weren't the ones that caused him to jump awake. The worst dreams were the ones that finished. The ones that he couldn't escape. Tonight, he had one of those. But it was weird. He was back at Stanford, studying with Jess. There had been a dog barking somewhere in the dorm, even though Sam didn't have a memory of ever seeing a dog in the dorm. And he remembered smelling blood. It didn't make sense. He'd even brought it up to dream-Jess and yet she didn't notice any of it.

But Sam was used to dreams of Stanford and Jess and the life he could have had. That wasn't the problem. He still had them, but they didn't leave him feeling like this anymore. They didn't leave him feeling like he needed to run or fight. He felt like he needed to save someone but he didn't know who.

The dream wasn't bad because of what happened, it was bad because of how it felt. He felt like there was something coming, something he had to be ready for but he knew he wasn't prepared. And Jess didn't seem worried. It was like he was the only one concerned about whatever it was that was coming. Or, Sam considered, maybe it had already come and he hadn't been prepared then.

Sam looked up at the ceiling.

If he remembered right, he hadn't even been studying the classes that he remembered taking. It was what Sam expected from law school work. It was as if Dean hadn't ever stopped to pick up Sam so they would be able to find their father.

Sam threw the covers aside and pushed himself out of bed. He felt like he needed to fight something but he didn't have anything to fight. So he needed to find a case.

Sam walked over to the table and opened his computer. The hair on the back of his neck was still standing and every instinct told him he needed to move. To dodge a hit then throw one of his own.

While he waited for the computer to load, he glanced around the room. And that's when he figured it out.

He'd finally made a mistake.

Ever since Dean had died and been dragged to hell, Sam had changed every habit they had so he wouldn't be reminded. He had taken everything that happened that night, stuffed it in a box, locked it, put the box in a room in the corner of his mind, and shut the door.

Every time he checked into a room, he made sure to choose the one Dean wouldn't have. He chose the room furthest from the fire escape. He chose rooms with only one bed. He chose the second cheapest motel rather than the worst in the area. He had even changed the kind of beer that sat in the fridge. Now, he had some kind of IPA that he didn't even like. But at least it didn't remind him of Dean. He had considered even dropping the Impala off at Bobby's and letting him keep it, but he knew that would have killed Dean if he weren't already dead. So instead Sam had just modified it so it had an iPod jack. It wasn't much, but so far it had done the trick.

Until tonight. The motel he'd picked only had one room left and it was the only one in town. The last room had two queens and was closest to the fire escape. It was exactly the room that Dean would have chosen.

 _Dean_ was the person Sam hadn't been able to save. _Dean_ was the case that Sam hadn't been prepared enough. It was that night that Dean died hearing hounds bay and bark. The smell of blood was Dean's as he was ripped apart.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, covering his mouth.

And Sam had been so careful not to think about it. Everything had been fine-ish until Sam had to stay in this stupid room, in this stupid motel, in this stupid town, that didn't even have a stupid case.

He'd finally made a mistake.

Sam shook his head. And it made him have a stupid nightmare.

It was almost ironic. A nightmare. It was so twisted it would have made Sam laugh if it didn't make him so angry. He wasn't sure if he was angry at the situation or Dean. He knew it didn't make sense to be mad at Dean for dying but here he was.

Sam figured the problem was that Dean made a promise. Sure, they were kids when he did it, but it was still an agreement. And Winchesters didn't break promises they made to each other.

Dean had promised that he would always be there when Sam had a nightmare. _Even when he was old and as wrinkly as Bobby._

But Dean wasn't here because Sam had failed. Sam let him die.

Sam stopped his pacing and flipped the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally deleted this chapter and had to rewrite it from memory 🙂  
> Sorry if there are typos, I haven’t had the change to make sure it’s a-okay.  
> So comments would really be appreciated because I *literally* put twice the amount of work into it 🤣🤣🤣  
> Thanks for reading!


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